


Telling The Amis

by guineamania



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Batman and Robin references, Combeferre has no time for your lonely soul, Cuddly Drunk Grantaire, Drug Use, Eponine is a bad ass, Everyone forgets Bossuet, F/M, Fluff, Grantaire has no time for your sarcasm, M/M, Shamelessly stealing lyrics for my own purpose, Sick Enjolras, Switzerland, e/R so much it hurts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-01-26 18:10:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 5,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1697702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guineamania/pseuds/guineamania
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras and Grantaire ... now the lovebirds! But how will the amis react when hit with the shocking news?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Combeferre

Combeferre sat in the backroom of the Café Musian with books spread all around him. He had an essay in for the next day and was furiously scribbling away on pieces of paper. The Café was silent as the rest of the boys were yet to arrive. The clock ticked rhythmically in the back ground and the wind whistled through the slightly ajar door. The peaceful silence was broken by two very familiar voices. “You cannot say the storming of the Bastille was a good idea!” Grantaire shouted in disbelief.  
“It helped gain the support of the people that rose,” Enjolras argued.  
“But cost lives and was a pointless endeavour,” Grantaire argued and Enjolras laughed.  
“It was in no way pointless,” he exclaimed as the duo walked in the door letting the chilling cold air inside. “It was a symbol of royal tyranny and it was an honourable deed to destroy it!” he said passionately. Combeferre looked up at the bickering duo and they both waved at him not staring from their argument. Those two were always arguing so Combeferre thought nothing of it. They both sat down at one of the tables and continued to argue about the pros and cons of the attack on the Bastille, but in slightly more hushed tones. Combeferre managed to ignore their conversation until it took a completely different turn. “I love it when you talk all patriotic,” Grantaire chuckled.  
“And your cynicism is adorable,” Enjolras giggled and Combeferre turned round to find the two of them holding hands with their faces about an inch apart. He just sat there and gawped as they were lost in each other’s eyes. Combeferre gawped at the pair. Enjolras spotted him and burst out laughing. “Hey, Ferre,” he said and Combeferre was still stuck in shock.  
“What?” he exclaimed.  
“We’re going out now,” Grantaire stated with a little smile.  
“You didn’t tell me!” Combeferre exclaimed and it was now Enjolras’ turn to be confused.  
“Well I wasn’t expecting … that,” Enjolras murmured and Grantaire smiled.  
“What were you expecting?” he asked frowning slightly.  
“A little more shock, laughter, exclamations of ‘are you joking?’,” Enjolras speculated and Combeferre laughed.  
“I’ve been waiting for you two to finally notice each other properly for years now!” he chuckled.  
“Really?” they both exclaimed in symphony.  
“Of course … but please get a room before you start all that again,” he moaned and started writing again.


	2. Jehan

The next day, they were all gathered in the Musian for another meeting. Jehan sat in his usual seat with Joly and Bossuet next to him. A notebook rested on his knee and a pencil behind his ear. Every few moments, an idea would spontaneously appear and it would be scrawled down on the pad followed by a little pleased smile. Then the cycle would start again. This continued all the way through the meeting until he had a complete poem scrawled on the pages. He jumped to his feet as soon as the last word was written and the pencil returned to its customary spot behind his ear. The giddy young poet practically skipped over to Enjolras. Their leader was one of the only people that actually enjoyed listening to Jehan’s poetry apart from Marius.

“Enjy, I got another poem,” he chirped bouncing over to the revolutionary’s table. Enjolras looked up and smiled slightly at Jehan. 

“Let’s hear it then,” he chuckled. Jehan had never seen Enjolras this happy before and was slightly concerned. What had gotten into their marble leader? It was then he noticed it. That glance to Grantaire. Followed by a little smile and a slight blush spread across the bridge of his nose. 

Jehan’s grin spread and his whole demeanour lightened even further. “Dieu! You two!” he squealed jumping into a seat next to Enjolras. Both men wore mirrored expressions of caution and confusion. “I can’t believe you finally got together, this is so exciting!” he giggled and Enjolras hurriedly shushed him. “You are going to live together, then get married. If you go to Switzerland they are all for gay marriages,” he rabbited on leaving Enjolras staring dumbstruck at him and Grantaire chuckling. “And then you can come back and adopt children. Oh Dieu, why don’t you adopt Gavroche. He needs a family, please adopt Gavroche!” Jehan pleaded as Enjolras gawped at him. “He’s a really good kid,” Jehan exclaimed quickly.

“Jehan,” Grantaire sighed.

“And he is no trouble, really, he’s just free spirited,” Jehan insisted, not hearing Grantaire.

“Prouvaire!” Grantaire said firmer this time but Jehan just continued with his monologue.

“You guys’ll be fine. You are both spirited as well,” he continued giddily.

“Jean Prouvaire please be quiet!” Grantaire shouted.

The poet fell silent looking at Grantaire confused. “I believe you may have scared my boyfriend,” he chuckled, still amused by the whole situation. Enjolras was looking shocked at the little poet.

“I am so sorry Enjy, I got a bit carried away,” he blushed hugging Enjolras. The bemused statue hugged him back weakly. 

“Just keep it a secret for us, alright,” Enjolras whispered and Jehan’s head nodded so fast Grantaire wondered how he was not sick.

“I promise,” he grinned, “this is amazing … I know a person in Switzerland!”


	3. Bahorel

“Ay wuv wu!” Grantaire exclaimed trying unsuccessfully to hug the larger man. Bahorel shrugged him off and he fell to the floor giggling manically. Everyone around him moaned and backed away. He looked up at them all and started hiccupping, which of course made him laugh even more.   
“That is the last time we bring champagne,” Courfeyrac stated bluntly and everyone else agreed. The drunkard tried to stand up but just fell back down laughing hysterically on the floor.   
“Someone should take him home,” Joly murmured and everyone grumbled their various excuses.  
“Whoever he tries to hug has responsibility, you know the rules,” Courfeyrac laughed and the girl on his arm giggled along.   
“Maybe you should take him, seen as though there are two of you,” Bahorel glared at the flirt and his latest toy.   
“And make this darling lady wait, I think not,” Courfeyrac replied in mock hurt and Bahorel rolled his eyes. “He’s staying with Enj and the moment,” Courfeyrac stated with his casual charming grin that he usually sported.  
“Ok, ok,” he conceded while picking up the giggling Grantaire and slinging him over his shoulder. “But I am not doing this next time,” he grumbled but the crowd had already dispersed in their different directions therefore leaving him alone with the drunkard.

Bahorel had finally dragged a hyper Grantaire back to the apartment building Enjolras resided in. If Grantaire wasn’t actually staying with Enjolras then it was their leader’s problem now not his. He hated drunk duty but sometimes it had to be done. He had to admit it was surprising the drunkard was living with Enjolras but who was he to question what happened. Bahorel banged on the door propping Grantaire up next to his side. Enjolras opened the door with a yawn and ran a hand through his rustled hair. “Hey, what’s up?” Enjolras asked before he spotted Grantaire.  
“Drunk duty,” Bahorel sighed and Enjolras moaned helping Grantaire up off the floor but his legs just buckled under his weight. Enjolras quickly picked up the larger but light man and Grantaire instantly wrapped his arms round Enjolras’ neck and snuggled upto him like a sleepy child.   
“Thanks mon ami. I doubt he would have made it back in one piece,” Enjolras grumbled and Bahorel nodded.

“Enjy can I go to sleep now?” Grantaire asked looking up at Enjolras and the revolutionary nodded. “Love you Apollo,” Grantaire mumbled snuggling up closer to him and falling asleep.  
“You don’t have to entertain his drunken fantasies ‘Jolras,” Bahorel sighed but Enjolras just replied with a blush.  
“Well,” Enjolras replied hesitantly and the penny dropped.  
“You don’t mean … really?” Bahorel asked completely shocked to the core. “You two?” he asked and Enjolras nodded kissing the sleeping Grantaire on the temple as if to prove his point. “Wow,” he murmured, speechless. “Please say I wasn’t the only one that didn’t now?” he pleaded and Enjoolras chuckled slightly.  
“Only you, Ferre and Jehan know. And we would quite like to keep it that way,” he smiled and Bahorel nodded.  
“I’ll be going,” he mumbled awkwardly before remembering. “Oh yeah, give this to Taire when he wakes up,” he mumbled passing five francs to Enjolras. “He made a bet that he could get you to kiss him before the Barricade,” Bahorel admitted and Enjolras just laughed.  
“I’ll make sure he gets it,” Enjolras nodded and Grantaire stirred in his arms.  
“See you tomorrow,” Bahorel nodded and Enjolras nodded as well and shut the door. Bahorel sighed, well that was certainly unexpected.


	4. Marius

“Are you playing with me?” Marius burst out laughing downing the rest of his wine. “Those two really?” he asked and Bahorel nodded. The larger man was drunk out of his mind and found himself telling Marius all about his meeting with the two lovebirds last night. Marius was shocked, confused and overjoyed all at the same time. Enjolras always rambling on about how it is either the revolution or love; now he was in love with the most cynical man they all knew … this was just great. Time for revenge; revenge from his “who cares about your lonely soul” comments. And it would be sweet, sweet revenge. “So tell me exactly what happened,” Marius asked with a grin.

Enjolras walked in arguing with Grantaire again. Marius wasn’t bothered about what they happened to be discussing. He just sat there with an insane grin plastered on his face. Enjolras … who’d have thought! With all this phrases like “Patria is my only love”, “Strive towards a larger goal” and “our little lives don’t count at all”. He was finally in love. Oh and Marius was going to rub it in so much! “Marius stop grinning like a buffoon, is it your girl again?” Enjolras grumbled sitting at his regular table with Grantaire across from him.   
“No it is not Cosette … but it is still love,” he chuckled while still grinning maliciously at Enjolras and Grantaire.  
“Don’t say lover boy has deserted his blonde angel!” Grantaire gasped, pulling out a bottle of wine with an absent minded air.  
“I am still in love with Cosette … I was talking about someone else’s love,” he grinned and Grantaire stood up.  
“Bahorel you drunk idiot!” he screamed across the café and only got a laugh from the other man.

“I just find it so amusing, I am agog I am aghast,” Marius chuckled. “Is Enjolras in love at last?” he grinned and Enjolras groaned.   
“My words kiddo, don’t steal them!” Grantaire growled but Marius continued.  
“I’ve never seen him oooh and ahhh,” he laughed dramtically and Grantaire’s anger grew at his annoying pestering. “He usually talks of battles to be won,” he started but was silenced by a punch in the face. Grantaire stood fuming as Marius stumbled backwards.   
“Shut up Marius!” Grantaire snarled at him and Marius shut his mouth, not daring to say anything else. “And if you utter a word of this to anyone else I will smash your face in!” he threatened and Marius scuttled off back at Bahorel.  
“Don’t be harsh Nic,” Enjolras insisted as Grantaire sat next to him.  
“He was annoying me,” Grantaire whined.


	5. Eponine

Eponine left the Musain disappointed. She had set off looking for Grantaire; he was always in the Musain and so that was where she automatically went. He wasn’t there. His usual table was empty and none of the amis had seen him since the end of the meeting and a few had all left together. He had been acting strange lately; not normal strange, strange strange. Combeferre had told her that he was camping out at Enjolras’ house at the moment because he hated his own flat. That was why Eponine wanted to talk to him. She needed out of the Thenardier household; her father had hit her again and she had stormed off. After these incidents she always spent the night in Grantaire’s flat as he was the only one who would never ask questions; he would just give her a beer and sit with her on his rickety old settee. 

After a few moments of collecting herself, Eponine mustered the courage to knock on Enjolras’ front door; if Grantaire wasn’t actually there she would look like a complete idiot. Thankfully the man in question opened the door. Grantaire looked different. He was stood straighter than usual and the bottle in his hand was an expensive brand, plus it was only half empty; Grantaire usually downed those ones in one go. The drunkard was wearing a pristine clean green shirt that obviously wasn’t his own and his hair was still dripping water at the ends. “Hey Ponine,” he smiled. The smiling was also another strange thing. Grantaire never smiled apart from when he had managed to irk Enjolras or had finished a piece of art he was especially proud of.   
“Hey R, can I stay at your place tonight?” she asked with a weak smile. Grantaire sighed and nodded.  
“Course Ep, anytime. Unfortunately I will not be there tonight,” he smiled while passing Eponine his keys. “There is food and wine there,” he explained and she nodded.  
“R!” Enjolras shouted from inside the apartment with urgency to his voice.   
“I’ll have to go now Ep but spend all the time you want there,” he smiled.  
“It’ll be lonely without you,” she sulked and Grantaire clutched her shoulder.  
“Nicolas!” Enjolras shouted and something crashed.  
“I really better go,” Grantaire insisted and darted back into the apartment. The door began to swing to a close after him but, in a spur of the moment action, Eponine caught it and silently stepped inside. Grantaire continued unheeding of her subtly entrance.

Eponine sunk through the apartment to Enjolras’ little kitchen which was where all the noise was sourced from. “I leave you for two minutes and you make a complete mess,” Grantaire sighed from inside the room.   
“It’s harder than it looks,” Enjolras whined and Grantaire laughed in response. Eponine pushed the door open slightly and gawped at the scene that met her. The whole kitchen was coated in a thin layer of flour and a discarded bag lay on the floor. Enjolras and Grantaire were stood by the stove together. Enjolras was clutching the pan and Grantaire had his hands softly on top of Enjolras’. Grantaire was stood so his arms wrapped round the blonde revolutionary and his head rested on the marble shoulder.  
“Have you never made crepes before?” Grantaire asked with a mock gasp before nuzzling Enjolras’ neck as they cooked.  
“Very funny,” Enjolras replied with a smile.  
“Mon Dieu!” Eponine exclaimed while giving the door a violent push open. Both men jumped apart in shock.   
“Eponine what are you still doing here?” Grantaire exclaimed while recovering from her surprise entrance.  
“I wanted to see what was up with you,” she replied still in shock. “You were being weird,” Eponine shrugged and Enjolras chuckled. “So are you two …?” she asked wearing a deep scowl and both men nodded in harmony. Eponine prowled towards Enjolras with her expression turning murderous and stopped right in front of him, glaring up at him. 

“If you dare hurt him I will kill you. R has had his heart broken enough and I will not let you break it again. He loves you and you better be deserving of it,” she ranted at the bemused Enjolras. He looked over at Grantaire; his expression was pleading Grantaire to save him. Grantaire just chuckled sitting on the table, licking batter from his fingers. “He has doted over you for months and you were too obtuse to notice, if you dare leave him without a valid reason I will skin you alive,” she shouted and stomped out of the apartment. Enjolras just stood there in shock.  
“She is terrifying,” Enjolras remarked.  
“Damn right she is,” Grantaire chuckled as the front door thumped shut.


	6. Courfeyrac and Feuilly

"Feuil don't be a scaredy cat!" Courfeyrac shouted as he pulled a disgruntled Feuilly out of the Cornith. "It'll be such a laugh!" He exclaimed laughing loudly.   
"No way!" Feuilly exclaimed with almost as much vigor.   
"But you can do photography! I would ask R but he is nowhere to be seen!" Courfeyrac shouted and pouted at him. Courfeyrac was blatantly drunk out of his mind and his judgment was certainly thrown away with the last empty bottle.   
"I refuse to help you with your foolish plan to take pictures of Enjolras asleep!" Feuilly argued while digging his heels into the floor. Despite being older that the drunk student, Courfeyrac was much stronger and taller than the young man. The unwilling fan maker was slowly pulled down the dark Parisian streets. 

"Robin de Courfeyrac! I refuse to do this disgraceful act!" Feuilly screamed as Enjolras' apartment came in view and he was still being dragged along behind an eager Courfeyrac.   
“I’ll pay you!” he shouted back with a slight slur to his words.   
“I will not take bribes!” he exclaimed, locked in a battle of wills with the other student.  
“I won’t tell the others about your little Polish girl,” he giggled and was hit by a deadly glare from Feuilly.   
“That is blackmail,” he growled but reluctantly stopped protesting against him.

Courfeyrac found the spare key hidden by Enjolras’ door and silently prowled inside with a sly grin plastered across his face. Feuilly followed nowhere near as enthusiastic while his mind raced forming ways of apologising Enjolras and ways to kill Courfeyrac slowly and painfully. Courfeyrac shoved a camera into Feuilly’s hands and dodged a slap from him. “Never again,” he growled as they sunk in to the flat Enjolras lived in. Courfeyrac slowly pushed open the bedroom door and poked his head inside. Grantaire and Enjolras lay curled up with their limps tangled together, in the centre of the king sized bed. Grantaire ‘s hand was tangled in Enjolras’ blonde curls and their leader’s head was nestled in the crook of his neck. Both men looked surprisingly at peace and their breathing mirrored each other. Courfeyrac stifled a laugh and the man’s face brightened each further; perfect blackmail material handed to him on a silver platter. 

Feuilly was pushed inside the room with a stumble and stood gawping at the serene pair that was asleep in front of him. “Take the pictures,” Courfeyrac hissed as Grantaire began to stir from the noise they were both making.  
“No way Robin!” he yelled and Grantaire snapped awake with Enjolras jumping to consciousness as well.  
“What in the name of dieu are you two doing in our flat!” Grantaire yelled in anger at his sleep being disturbed. He was never a good sleeper and was always on the warpath when he was woken up.  
“Courfeyrac forced me to come and take pictures of Enjolras!” Feuilly blurted out and the hiding Courfeyrac was almost hit in the face by a speeding pillow.   
“You and Batman over here out … now!” he screamed and Feuilly ran out.  
“If anything I am the leader,” Courfeyrac argued but was silenced by a pillow to the face.


	7. Joly

Joly was jogging up the stairs to Enjolras' apartment. His arms were full of his medical supplies and with an infinite supply of cans of soup pouring over the sides. Earlier that day, Combeferre had come into the Musian with an almighty sigh. Enjolras was bedridden with the flu and, it would be an understatement to say, he was being a troublesome patient. Whenever he was ill, Enjolras always refused to admit it and he loathed to be coddled around. Thankfully, it was always Combeferre's duty to care for him but somehow Joly found himself on the way to Enjolras' apartment with the essential supplies. The other medical student had a stint at the hospital that night and had begged Joly for hours to go check up on his best friend. He had conceded. 

His gloved hand knocked on Enjolras' door. It swung open at the slightest touch and so Joly reluctantly stepped inside; he wanted to get this over and done with as soon as possible. “Jolras?” Joly asked holding his hand across his mouth and nose.   
"Come in," Enjolras shouted from the other room, followed by a cough and splutter that made Joly consider running for the hills. But he prevailed through the germ filled terrain into the biological battlefield that was Enjolras' bedroom. His bedroom was a mess and bits and pieces were scattered everywhere across every inch of floor space. Enjolras was in as bad a state as Joly had ever seen him. The marble statue never seemed to get ill let alone as incapacitated as he was when Joly walked into his bedroom. He was cocooned in hundreds of blankets with only his sickly white face and raggedy blonde curls poking out the top. Enjolras was usually pale but no one thought he could possibly go three shades whiter. His blonde curls were in a worse state than they usually were after a long day at the Musain when he was constantly running his hand through them in anger and passion. The passion that usually radiated off their passionate leader was faded and it's tendrils, that always pierced your heart, were feeble and wispy. It just wasn't right to see him like this. 

But the more shocking fact was the man who was currently tending to their fallen leader. Grantaire, the cynical drunkard, was knelt by Enjolras' side softly brushing his forehead was a cold cloth as the other man coughed and spluttered repeatedly. Grantaire had never cared for someone before. He was the sort of person that if you fell over; he would burst out laughing, maybe help you up and thrust a pint into your hands. He certain wasn't the sort to sit patiently trying to cool someone down. Joly had been standing in the doorway for a while before Grantaire looked up and spotted the medic. "Thank god you are here Joly, he's getting worse," Grantaire sighed, clearly shaken by this occurrence. Joly walked in, avoiding the clutter, and knelt at the other side of Enjolras. There must have been germs swarming in the air everywhere in the room but the hypochondriac in him sensed this wasn't the best time to tell his friends where diseases could escalate from the flu. 

Joly sat treating Enjolras to the best of his ability but he could not stop himself glancing to the frantic drunkard across the bed from him. Grantaire had not let go of Enjolras' hand since Joly had come into the room and was currently running his thumb, affectionately across the back of Enjolras' hand, trying to sooth him. The weirdest thing was that, in his feverish state, that simple gesture from Grantaire did seem to sooth Enjolras' pounding heart. There was certainly something going on between the two of them; Joly could not hold in the curiosity any longer. "Is there something between you two?" He asked, mainly at Grantaire as he currently was holding a thermometer under Enjolras' tongue. Grantaire smiled and answered the question with one smooth gesture. He smiled while leaning forwards and kissed Enjolras on his clammy white forehead. Enjolras smiled and in return, spat out the thermometer before he kissed Grantaire on the chin. Well that answered that then. Joly smiled, shrugged and got back on with reading Enjolras' temperature. Love was love; who was he to judge?


	8. Bossuet

Bossuet walked along the crowded Parisian streets with his phone pressed to his ear. Joly had not returned any of his calls since he had gone to check up on Enjolras. He knew not to be worried; Maurice Joly was always leaving his phone off and often completely forgot it anyway. Once he had reached his boyfriend’s voicemail again, Bossuet let out an exasperated sigh and decided to walk to Musian to see if anyone had heard anything from him. He knew Enjolras was a stubborn patient but surely not bad enough to take Joly all night to sort him out. The noon day sun bored into his head as the slight worry lingered in the back of his mind.

What Bossuet did not expect was everyone sat round a table with Enjolras sat on Grantaire’s knee. The blonde revolutionary was beaming with one arm wrapped round the drunkard’s neck to steady himself. Everyone was laughing and no one noticed Bossuet stood in the doorway staring in disbelief. Enjolras was teasing Grantaire about something or other; probably to do with the drink. The drunkard suddenly stood up in an attempt to shake the revolutionary off his knee but Enjolras was too quick to react. He hurriedly wrapped both arms round Grantaire’s neck and latched his lanky legs round his waist with a little squeal. It was a strange scene if you knew both people involved like Bossuet did. 

“So what’s happening here?” Bossuet asked, finally walking into the café. Everyone jumped and turned to face him. Grantaire and Enjolras were both sat down again, looking slightly flustered but still clinging to each other.  
“Hey, ‘Suet,” Joly smiles patting the chair next to him. “I made them leave you a chair. That’s why those two are like that,” he explained, without really explaining. Bossuet frowned at him then the cuddling duo.   
“Haven’t you heard?” Grantaire asked, like the whole world apart from Bossuet knew.  
“No but I have worked it out from the evidence in front of me,” he replied, gesturing to the fidgeting couple. Both men grinned innocently at him as he sat down.  
“So I am the only one who doesn’t know how this came about. The cynic and the revolutionary ogling over each other,” he asked, prompting a blush from both Grantaire and Enjolras.  
“Actually,” Courfeyrac thought. “Have any of us asked how they got together?” he asked and everyone started murmuring. “I’ll take that as a no then,” he replied.  
“So … explain,” Bossuet encouraged. Both Enjolras and Grantaire looked at each other with some form of romantic telepathic communication. Eventually Grantaire nodded and turned back to the eagerly awaiting crowd.   
“Well, it all started when I was drunk,” Grantaire began.  
“Why do I always get a bad feeling when your stories start with ‘When I was drunk’?” Feuilly asked and everyone burst out laughing.  
“You won’t hear the rest of it if you keep interrupting me. And that is because all my stories start with When I was drunk,” he replied with a wink to Feuilly. Everyone feel silent again; Grantaire took a glup of wine and began his story again.  
“It all started when I was drunk and you had all gone home,” he explained.


	9. Epilogue and Gavroche

Grantaire smiled as that strange time came back to him as Enjolras took over telling the story. It did sound better from the revolutionary's point of view.  
Everyone had gone home apart from the cynic and the revolutionary who sat at opposite ends of the café. They never talked and that was just how it was supposed to be. The Café Musain was about to close up and Enjolras packed up all his books and laptop into his bag without thinking of the café's other patron. "Hey, R! Time to go mate," the bar man shouted as he pulled on his coat. A groan was the only noise that emanated from the shadowy corner. Enjolras looked up, finally noticing there was someone in the café apart from him and the staff. He let out a deep sigh and walked over to the drunkard.  
"Grantaire, we need to leave now," he insisted, practically holding the winecask up as he supported him to his feet. They set of out the door as the bar man was locking up. Rain was pouring down, smashing against the already sodden tarmac. Before they stepped out into the storm Enjolras realised he had no idea where Grantaire lived; he hadn't really cared before. "Where do you live?" he asked Grantaire; his voice slow and loud so maybe he would be able to break through the drunkard's alcohol fuelled delirium.  
"Here!" Grantaire slurred, pointing to the sheltered step they were currently stood.  
"Really?" Enjolras asked, unwilling to believe that he could really live on a step outside the café. It did make sense though; he was always there before everyone else and left after everyone else did. That place was like the cynic's home.  
"Short on money, free sleep," Grantaire mumbled but it was clear he was fading away. Enjolras pulled him out into the rain and into the back of his car.  
"Well, you are staying with me until we get this sorted," he stated but Grantaire was already passed out on the back seat.  
The arrangement between the pair was going well. It was now agreed that if Grantaire kept the apartment clean and did not disturb Enjolras then he could stay in the guest room indefinitely. It had been a few weeks and there had been no upsets. This was until Grantaire brought his new boyfriend home. Everyone had suspected that Grantaire was gay for years now and he seemed to have an one night stand every night, but they were never serious; that was before Gabriel. Gabriel Lebeau was Grantaire's love; he doted on him almost as much as he had doted on Enjolras over the years. The only difference was that he believed his feelings to be reciprocated in this instance. It would be an understatement to called Gabriel a deceiving bastard. He manipulated Grantaire into doing things for him like spending his food money on buying Gabriel drugs; but Grantaire was oblivious to his flaws. To Grantaire he was an angel not the devil; there was nothing Enjolras could do to make him see any different.  
However, for Enjolras the worst part was the sex. Those two seemed to be able to have sex anywhere and it nearly always disturbed Enjolras' work or kept him awake. Despite all this, Enjolras tolerated it. He did care about Grantaire and if Gabriel was making Grantaire happy then he should let them be. But one evening Gabriel pushed the blonde revolutionary too far. Enjolras was laid on his own bed trying to get to sleep when Grantaire and Gabriel tore through the apartment into Grantaire's room. This was a regular occurrence so Enjolras just clenched his fists but did not make any move to stop them. The walls in Enjolras' apartment were ridiculously thin; thin enough so he could hear everything that was going on in the other room. And he did not like what he heard. "Come on Nic," Gabriel laughed as the bed creaked. "It's fun and good for the mind," he encouraged.  
"I don't want to Gabe," Grantaire murmured in response.  
"Nic, it's good. Just a little H, will make everything better," Gabriel encouraged and Enjolras jumped up. He wasn't street-wise but Enjolras still knew the nicknames for heroin if he ever heard them; and there was no way on this earth Enjolras was letting Gabriel get Grantaire addicted.  
He burst into the room with a burning rage filling his whole body. Gabriel was laid over Grantaire, holding him in place as he prepared the drug. Grantaire had his eyes squeezed shut but he didn't seem to be struggling; he would do anything the 'angel' told him to. "You, out!" Enjolras screamed at Gabriel in pure anger. "No drugs in my house," he shouted as Gabriel got up off Grantaire.  
"Enj what are you doing?" Grantaire asked weakly but Enjolras was not listening to him. He pushed Gabriel out the door and locked it after him. "Enj, I was alright. Why did you tell him to get lost?" Grantaire asked, incredibly confused.  
"Because I don't want you doing drugs," Enjolras replied sitting on the bed.  
"Since when did you care?" Grantaire scoffed. He certainly did not expect Enjolras' response. He could not hold back anymore. He dove forwards kissing Grantaire. For a moment Grantaire stiffened but he soon melted into Enjolras' touch. They kissed passionately, leaning on the bed. Eventually Enjolras broke off, hoping he had not ruined their friendship. Grantaire was grinning, "You have no idea how long ii have waited for that," he laughed, leaning in for another kiss. Enjolras' heart swelled and he kissed back lusting for his drunkard.  
No one knew how to respond to that story; it was nothing like they were expecting. They all knew about Gabriel but not how much of a bad influence he was on their favourite cynic. "So that is why this occurred," Grantaire smiled, kissing Enjolras. With a bang and a crash, Gavroche appeared under the table.  
"What's up," he smiled looking at the Amis. They were all smiling over his shoulder completely oblivious to his arrival. Gavroche slowly turned around and saw Enjolras and Grantaire kissing. "What the hell?" he exclaimed, gawping. "How did this happen?" he shouted and everyone burst out laughing.


End file.
